Chasing Stardust
by Rory Carlisle
Summary: WARNING spoilers from the 7th book. Following the aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts, Ron Weasley finds himself with a dilemma. Hermione Granger is ignoring him, and has been for weeks. A twist of bizarre events, comic misunderstandings, and adventures.
1. Chapter 1: Complications

-1Chapter 1: Complications

Ron Weasley was stewing.

It wasn't like him to sit and think for as long as he had been for the past few hours, but as there had, for once, been nothing to do, he took the opportunity to collect his confused thoughts.

Foremost among these thoughts were some tangled emotions about a certain bushy-haired witch. Ron's ears grew slightly red just thinking about her, but he wasn't sure exactly what to do about it.

He had been overjoyed when Hermione had kissed him during the Battle of Hogwarts. Elated, in fact. So why was it that Hermione had all but ignored him for the past few weeks?

It wasn't like she was very far away, considering that she was staying in the same house as Ron. After the destruction of Voldemort, Harry, Ron and Hermione had all returned to stay at the Burrow with Ron's family. Hermione had briefly gone to Australia to lift the memory charm from her parents and see them back to their home in Leeds. Following that, she had returned to the Burrow to help the distraught Mrs. Weasley, who was still suffering from the loss of her son, Fred.

Ron had spent almost two weeks mourning his brother. Fred and George had always made fun of him, but he was still his brother, and the death had hit him hard. It was Hermione who had gotten Ron to rise from his depression and move on, but after that, she had barely spoken to him.

Sprawled on his messy bed, his hands linked behind his head, Ron stared up at the poster of the Chudley Cannons taped to his ceiling. He wasn't paying much attention to the soaring and waving Quidditch players, though. His mind was away, far away, still dwelling on the smiling, pink-cheeked face of-

"RON!"

Ron shot up and nearly toppled off of the bed. "Merlin's beard, Harry! Don't DO that!"

A young man with untidy black hair and glasses had just pushed open the door to Ron's attic room and was now standing with his hands in his pockets, looking at Ron.

"Well, I've been calling your name for almost five minutes." Harry pushed his glasses, which were sliding down his nose, back up and smiled. "You dad wants us downstairs to help with dinner."

"Oh…right." Ron threw his legs off of the bed and stood up, yawning widely. "How many are we counting on for dinner now?"

Harry held up one hand and started ticking of names. "Your dad, your mum, Charlie, George and Verity, Bill and Fleur, Mrs. Tonks and Teddy, Hermione, Neville, Dean, Luna, and Ginny." Ron noticed a slight red flush to Harry's cheeks when he said the last name and grinned.

"What?" said Harry suspiciously.

"Nothing, nothing." Ron clapped his hand on his best friend's shoulder and they walked out of the room.

They arrived in the kitchen to find it in complete chaos. Several pots and pans on the stovetop were boiling and spitting, and a frothy grey steam was rising from a small, covered pot in the back. A set of knives were cutting away at some vegetables on the countertop, and Mrs. Weasley stood in the middle of it all, waving her wand rapidly at what looked like something yellow and bubbly in a large bowl.

"Oh good, there you boys are." Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, catching sight of them. "Ron, will you please take these three dishes outside, and Harry dear, those plates and forks? We're eating outside; there's no possible way we can all fit in here, what with everyone coming and all. _WHERE IS GINNY?_" she roared, her eyes narrowing.

Ron flicked his wand at the dishes, Harry Summoned the utensils, and they both made their ways quickly out of the kitchen and away from Mrs. Weasley's wrath.

"Jeez, Mum's on the warpath." Ron grumbled as the two traipsed out to the garden. Two large, wooden tables had already been set up and pushed together, clean, slightly wrinkled blue tablecloths covering them. Ron sent the food dishes smoothly to land on the table. "Oy, Harry! Be careful with those knives, mate!"

For Harry, not paying attention in the slightest, as Ginny had just walked outside, had sent the many steak knives flying towards Ron instead of the table. Ron let out a yell and ducked for cover beneath the table. "HARRY!"

"Huh? Oh, sorry, sorry!" Harry hastily sent the knives to their original destination. "Sorry, mate."

"S'okay." Ron climbed out from beneath the table, brushing off the legs of his jeans as he did so. "Just make sure I'm not standing around you the next time you're holding the forks."

Harry grinned. "Will do."

Ron waved his wand and the plates and the utensils slid and arranged themselves neatly along the table. Just as he was Summoning some candles to light, a girl with brown hair appeared in the garden with a loud crack, a large, open book in her hands.

Startled and feeling his cheeks turn red, Ron accidentally stopped the spell. The candles in their glass cups fell to the ground with a crash.

"Really, Ronald." Hermione said exasperatedly. "Those were your mother's best candles."

"I, er, yeah, I know." Ron said, flustered. He quickly waved his wand at the remaining shards. _"Reparo."_

The glass instantly reconstructed and the candles flew into the air. Ron muttered "_Incendio." _and they lit themselves, bobbing to float around the long table.

"Er, he-hello." Ron said uncertainly.

"Hello." Hermione responded automatically. She had raised the book to her face and was now reading it while walking over to sit at the table. Ron craned his neck to get a glimpse of the title. _Hogwarts, A History: A Revised Version._

"Hello, Hermione." Harry said. "How are you this evening?"

"Very well, thank you, Harry." Hermione said without looking up.

Harry turned to Ron and raised an eyebrow. Ron just shrugged, feeling his face flush. Hermione was still acting strangely, and he had no idea why.

"What's the-OUCH!"

There was another loud crack and George Weasley appeared, almost on top of Harry. As it was, he landed mostly on Harry's foot.

"Whoops, sorry about that, Harry, my lad. I thought I had a clear shot." George slung an arm around Harry's shoulder, who nearly choked.

"Where's Verity?" Ron asked.

"She'll be here any-"

For the third time that evening, there was a deafening crack and a pretty, blonde haired witch in shockingly pink robes appeared next to George. She smiled. "Hello, Harry. Ron, Hermione."

The trio chorused hellos and then George finally released Harry from his chokehold. He took Verity's hand and kissed it, smiling down at her. She leaned against him, and a wave of jealousy washed over Ron. Not over Verity; but rather over the _relationship _that they had. George and Verity were obviously very happy together. And what did he, Ron, have?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. At least according to Hermione.

Ron let out a deep sigh and stalked back to the house to retrieve more candles.

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"We are here to celebrate a very special time."

The group was sitting, comfortably full, relaxing in the setting sun. Down at the end of the table, Fleur was sitting, leaning against Bill, who had his arm around her. Once again, Ron felt that stab of loneliness.

Mr. Weasley gazed happily down at the table and raised his glass of butterbeer. "We would like to congratulate George and Verity, with the help of Ron and Harry, for reopening their shop."

There was a smattering of applause. George grinned appreciatively and raised a hand. "Thank you, thank you. And now," George stood up, his chair making a squelching sound in the dewey grass. "-I have an announcement to make."

All eyes were fastened on George. Ron knew what it was his brother was going to say before he said it. He had, after all, been there when George had done it. He crossed his arms across his chest and leaned sullenly back in his chair.

George took a deep breath, and then, unable to contain himself, a wide, earsplitting grin spread across his face. "I asked Verity to marry me, and she said yes!"

There was a split second of silence and then chaos broke out all down the table. Mrs. Weasley let out a shriek of happiness, looking faint, and Fleur exclaimed "Oh, I just _love_ weddings!" Mr. Weasley was wiping tears of joy from his eyes, Dean said "Right on, mate!" and Luna said, sipping her butterbeer serenely, "Oh, that's nice."

Hermione, showing more signs of life than she had for a month, leapt up and threw her arms around George, looking ecstatic. "Oh, George!" she squealed. "That's wonderful news!"

George laughed. "Thanks, Hermione. And we were wondering if you would be one of our bridesmaids."

Hermione looked thunderstruck. "I, well…of course!" she said, a rather flustered, but pleased expression on her face. "I'd love to!"

"Thanks." George turned to Ginny, who was seated beside Harry, across from George. "And Gin, of course, is our maid of honor."

Ginny nearly spit out her drink. _"What? _Are you _serious? _I don't want to be a maid of honor!"

"I know." George grinned wickedly. "That's why we chose you. That, and Verity has no sisters."

Ginny huffed, but Harry put a consoling hand on her knee, and she quieted down.

Ron was still sulking, and he knew it. He was just waiting for a reason to be. He knew George would probably pick Charlie to be best man, as Fred was…well…George was closest to Charlie out of all the remaining three brothers. Bill wouldn't mind not being picked, but Ron was angry. He felt as if he had once again been passed over, forgotten in the mix. He hardly noticed that George was speaking again.

"…and Ron, of course, as my best man." he was saying.

Wait, Ron thought. _What?_

Next to him, Harry elbowed him and hissed "Ron! George is talking to you!"

"I, er, what?" Ron asked stupidly.

George was looking down at Ron, and for once, he was looking quiet serious. "I was just saying Ron, how I'd like you to be my best man."

"I…I…" Ron was at a loss for words. Astonishment had evidently crossed his face, because both George and Verity laughed lightly.

"Look, Ron." George said, sitting down again. He took one of Verity's hands as he did so. When he spoke again, it was quietly, so that Ron could barely hear him. "We've talked this over, me and Ver. And we have decided that this is what we want. _Both _of us. Ron, you've always been the closest brother to me. Well…" he said, looking down. "The second closest brother."

"But…" Ron asked, confused. His mind was whirling. "I thought…I thought, Charlie, or, or Bill…" his voice trailed off as he realized how stupid he sounded.

George chuckled. "It's true that I have known them longer. But Ron," he said. "I want _you _as my best man. I have gone through too much with you and not enough with them."

"You-you…have you gone mental?" Ron asked.

"No, I have not, and Ron, you are being our best man at our wedding. End of subject. Now," George clapped his hands together. "Where is some more of that excellent blackberry pie that Mum made?"

The talking that had faded slightly at George's announcement about Ron flared up once more.

"Ron, that's brilliant!" Harry said, clapping Ron on the back. "Best man!"

"Er, yes…yes!" A smile began to tug at Ron's mouth until he was unable to conceal it. "I'm George's best man!" he said giddily. "I'm a best man!"

"We haven't even had the wedding yet, and it's already gone to his head." Ginny said dryly, and Harry laughed.

"Really well done, Ron!" Dean said. The tall, black boy grinned down the table at them. Next to him, a heavyset boy with dark hair said "Wow…best man! That's great, Ron!"

"Thanks, Dean, Neville." Ron took a swig of butterbeer, and for the first time in a month, he felt somewhat content.

It was short lived, of course. Hermione, sitting diagonally across from Ron, did not say another word for the rest of the dinner. After they had cleaned up, she paid no attention to anyone, but whisked away up to her shared bedroom with Ginny.

Ron had never felt so elated and so lousy at the same time.


	2. Chapter 2: A Need For Advice

-1Chapter 2: Whispers, Whining, and Windows (of Opportunity)

"So, what's the deal with you and Hermione?"

Ron had been expecting the question ever since he and Harry had said their goodnights and headed up to Ron's rather messy attic bedroom. Now it was nearly one o'clock in the morning and Harry had finally gotten up the courage to ask.

"Dunno." Ron said, trying not to show how much it was bothering him. "She won't talk to me."

"She won't talk to almost _anybody _except maybe Ginny." Harry pointed out. "It's weird. She just spends all day in that room, reading or helping your mum with the chores or visiting her parents."

"It's like she doesn't have time for me anymore." Ron said gloomily, plucking at a stray thread on his old orange blanket. "I don't think she likes me anymore."

Harry sat up so fast all Ron saw was a blur in the dim moonlight from his tiny window.

"That isn't true, Ron." Harry said forcefully. "Hermione definitely still likes you, otherwise she wouldn't even still be here. It'd be too awkward."

"It's awkward now." Ron muttered. Harry was his best friend, and had been for the past seven years, but he just didn't get that sometimes you needed to accept the inevitable. And in this case, the inevitable was the fact that Hermione Granger obviously had no more feelings for Ron.

"That's rubbish." Harry said when Ron pointed this out. "She's liked you for this long, why would she just _stop?"_

"I don't know." Ron said, rolling over on his back to stare up at the ceiling. He had a sudden sense of déjà vu. "I guess she just wants to move on."

"Rubbish." Harry said again as he laid back down. "That's just mental, Ron."

Ron didn't answer, and as Harry's breathing steadily became slower and deeper, he closed his eyes and thought of a smiling, energetic, intriguing Hermione. The _old _Hermione.

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The next morning dawned grey and cloudy, a heavy fog drenching the Burrow and all of its surrounding area. Ron awoke early; _too _early, he decided, and instead of getting up, he snuggled back down beneath his warm covers.

Unfortunately, he was almost immediately accosted by a rather impatient older brother who Apparated into Ron's room with a loud _crack!_

"OUCH!" Ron yelled. George had landed on his knees.

"Sorry." George said, not sounding sorry at all. "Come on, Ron, get up. I need your help in the shop today."

"I don't wanna." Ron said grumpily, massaging his leg. Across the room, Harry sat up, blinking and looking bleary eyed.

"G'morning, George." he said, reaching for his glasses and pushing them on his nose. "What's up?"

"I need Ron's help. See? I can admit it." George got off of the bed and yanked Ron's blankets off of him. "Now, get up!"

Ron, dressed in nothing but a pair of grey flannel pajama pants, felt his ears turn red as he dived for the blanket George was now holding above his head. "George!"

"Come on, come on!" George teased, keeping it just out of reach with a levitation charm.

The door to Ron's room opened and Hermione poked her head in. Ron's face burned red and he snatched up his sheets, holding them to cover his bare chest.

Hermione hardly noticed. "Your mother wants everyone downstairs for breakfast." she said. "Even you, George; she heard your voice."

"Ah, yes, that mother of ours always did have excellent hearing." George dropped the blanket on Ron's head as Hermione whisked out again without another word. Ron fumbled with the blanket and glared at George, who grinned and ducked out of the room as well.

"Blimey." Harry said, pulling on a teeshirt. "You'd think we had cooties or something."

Ron grumbled and yanked a black shirt with "The Weird Sisters" scrawled on it over his head. "I don't know what her problem is." he said grumpily. "It's not like I've done anything to her."

Harry pivoted on one foot to face Ron as he tied the shoe on his other foot. "That's just it!"

"What's just it?" Ron said, stuffing his wand in his jeans pocket.

"You should do something for her!" Harry explained. "Show her that you care and are wondering what's the deal."

"Like…what?" Ron asked, intrigued and somewhat repulsed by the idea.

Harry frowned. "I dunno…give her flowers or something?"

Ron made a face. "I would have no idea what to give her. That's George's area of expertise."

"So ask him then." Harry said.

"Wait," Ron said incredulously, staring at Harry. "Ask _George_ for advice? Are you kidding me? Do you _want _me to have this held over my head for the rest of my life?"  
"Well, if you want to know what's up with Hermione…" Harry shrugged. "How about this. I'll talk to her first. Then, if she doesn't tell me, then you should ask George for help."

Ron sighed. "I guess."

The two boys walked out of the room and down the crooked stairs to the landing below. In the tiny, crowded kitchen they found Mrs. Weasley dolling out sausages and eggs to Hermione, George, Ginny and, surprisingly, Luna Lovegood.

"Hello." she said at Ron and Harry's arrival.

"Look who came to visit this morning!" Mrs. Weasley said cheerfully, now pouring tea into cups.

"Er…hello, Luna." said Harry, smiling.

"Hello!" Ron grinned down at the petite, blonde-haired girl. He had, surprisingly, grown rather fond of Luna during the past few years that he had known her. Her odd ways and strange statements now did not seem as outlandish as when they had first met.

Luna sipped her tea and resumed reading her copy of her father's newspaper, _The Quibbler. _Once Xenophillius Lovegood (Luna's father and editor of the popular newspaper) had been let out of Azkaban and resumed his position, the newspaper had gone back to its support of Harry and its sightings of the Crumple-Horned Snorkack.

"Now, Harry, you're looking a bit peaky, here have a bit more sausages, will you…" Harry sent Ron a grimace as Mrs. Weasley piled more food onto his plate, and Ron coughed to hide his laughter.

"So, George tells me that you're going to help him out in the store today." Mrs. Weasley continued brightly, and Ron almost choked on his orange juice, sending a glare in George's direction.

His older brother just shrugged and held up his hands as if to say _"Who, me?"_

"I never said-" Ron began hotly, but Mrs. Weasley cut him off. "Now, Ronald, George needs you. It would do _well," _and here she narrowed her eyes menacingly in his direction. "-to help out every once in a while. You're growing lazy."

"But-" Ron started to say, but it was hopeless. His mother wouldn't take no for an answer, and after he had finished eating breakfast, George grabbed his arm before he could slip away.

"Come on, little brother." George said, grinning widely. "Let's go."

Before Ron could even utter a protest, George turned on the spot and Disapparated. Ron was pulled through the suffocating blackness and the of all air choked out of him and a wave of nausea was threatening to overcome him when they emerged from the darkness into the center of George's flat above his shop. Ron, not exactly prepared for the sudden stop, stumbled and fell onto his hands and knees.

"Next time you do that," he grunted, panting. "-give me a little _warning, _will ya?"

There was laughter from George, and then a pair of hands grabbed his shoulders and hoisted him upright. Ron found himself looking into the clear blue eyes of Verity Callum.

"Good morning, Ron." she said, smiling at him.

"Er…morning." Ron mumbled. He didn't feel like seeing his brother's fiancée at the moment, especially in his current situation.

Verity, to his great relief, just nodded and let go of him, slipping over to kiss George briefly and then go into the other room to change into her magenta work robes; a set of which George tossed to Ron. Ron looked at them in revulsion. "You can't expect me to wear these."

"That's what the uniform is, and you gotta wear it. Sorry, little brother. Now go change." George pushed him in the direction of the bathroom and all but locked the door behind him.

Grumbling, Ron put on the magenta robes and looked at himself in the mirror. "I look ridiculous." he murmured out loud to himself. Then, heaving a great sigh, he left the bathroom.

George had already changed as well and was waiting by the door. "Let's go! You're manning the money, by the way." he said cheerfully. Ron merely grunted in response.

Downstairs, the small shop wasn't open yet, but there were several eager witches and wizards waiting at the doors. George, a broad smile on his face, unlocked the front door and the crowd of people came milling in.

By noontime the shop was filled to the breaking point. Ron had already had to break up two fights over the last pygmy puff, stop a group of giggling girls from trying to steal one of the boxes of "Instant Daydream," and go and clean up the mess made by a rogue Decoy Detonator.

"I don't know how you and Fred managed to keep this place from exploding or burning down." Ron grumbled as he carried a large box filled with Extendable Ears and Ten Ton Toffee out from the storeroom. "This entire place is an accident waiting to happen."

George just laughed and cuffed him on the shoulder, causing Ron to nearly drop the box he was holding. "That's just showbiz, Ron, just showbiz."

Ron resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at his brother.

"Besides," George said, gazing up at a large, framed photograph hanging on one wall of the store. It was barely visible through the haze of the surrounding objects. "Fred and I had a gift."

Ron looked at the picture. It was of Fred and George standing in front of their store on the day it opened. Verity sat in the background, watching them, and fireworks were exploding in the background.

Sighing, Ron dropped the box on the ground and turned to look at his older brother. "George," he said. "I need your help."

George almost ran into the doorway he was about to go through. Flipping around, his eyes wide, a grin spread across his face and he jumped back, throwing his arms around Ron's neck.

"OUCH!" Ron bellowed. George was almost strangling him in his eagerness.

"Oh, _Ronny-poo!" _George laughed, ruffling his hair. "Ickle Ronny-kins needs advice from his big brother? Aw, that's so _sweet!" _

"Ow…stop it! And yes, okay, I said I needed your help." Ron tried to shove George away, but George still had his arm around his neck. "Come on, lemme go!"

"It's finally happening." George said, a misty-eyed look on his face. "My own brother has finally come to his senses and is asking the right man for advice. And what about, may I ask?"

Ron knew he was going to regret saying it. "Hermione." he mumbled in a small voice.

There was a moment of silence, and then George gave a loud cry and flung his other arm around Ron's neck as well.

"OW, GEORGE!" Ron shouted, his ears turning pink. "GEORGE!"


	3. Chapter 3: An Interesting Philosophy

**Chapter 3: An Interesting Philosophy**

"So," George said, leaning back in his chair and linking his long fingers behind his shaggy red-haired head. "What you're saying is that since defeating Lord Voldemort," (Ron winced; it was too much of a habit now to stop) "-Hermione has been giving you the cold shoulder?"

"Yeah, that's about it." Ron mumbled. He wasn't too happy about having to ask George for advice, and, on top of that, his neck was sore from all of George's wringing of it. "I don't understand girls."

"Well, who does?" George said jovially. "I mean, it took me forever to realize that I liked Verity. And even then, I practically had to beg her to marry me."

Ron snorted. The apartment above the store was smaller than he remembered, and crowded with miscellaneous items. His eyes strayed over to what used to be Fred's bed. The covers were unmade, a corner of the sheets and blankets tossed aside. Ron swallowed back a rise of sudden emotion and turned his eyes back to George.

"Ron." George said, clapping a hand on his brother's shoulder. "I think I can fix this."

Ron sat up straighter, hope flaring in his chest. "Really?" he said eagerly. "You can? How?"

"Simple." George grinned. "You just gotta give up on Hermione and go out with Luna Lovegood." He cackled with laughter.

Ron stood up abruptly, knocking over his chair. "I can see I never should have to asked _you _for help." he snapped angrily, his cheeks burning. "Never mind."

He stalked towards the door to leave, but a hand on his arm stopped him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." George said, but he was still laughing.

Ron wrenched his arm from his grasp. "No you're not." he said furiously. "I _knew _I shouldn't have asked you for help. Harry said that you had changed, that you were different, but I can see that it was all just a big mistake. You're still the same obnoxious, arrogant, _mean _George."

He turned away again, but the sound of George's voice made him hesitate.

"Ron." he said quietly. "Ron, I'm…I'm sorry. Really."

Knowing he would probably regret it later, Ron swiveled to face his brother again. George's face was impassive, but his eyebrows were drawn upwards in an expression of regret.

"Really." he said again. "Come on, I was only joking. I'll be serious this time, I mean it."

Ron gave a great sigh and reluctantly traipsed back into the apartment where he flung himself onto the couch and crossed his arms across his chest.

George grabbed the nearest chair and swung it around so that he was sitting backwards in, with the back of the chair facing Ron.

"Look," he started to say, but there was a loud _crack!_ and Harry suddenly appeared in the living room.

"Oh." he said, seeing Ron and George's expressions; Ron's of shock, George's of amusement. "Sorry. I thought it would be a bad idea to Apparate straight into the shop, seeing as it's a little too full. I might've landed on some unsuspecting little girl or something."

"What's up, Harry?" Ron said, grateful for the interruption.

"I talked to Hermione." Harry said, flopping down onto the couch beside his best friend.

"And?" Ron and George both asked simultaneously. Ron shot him a look and he grinned, shrugging.

"And she said she didn't know what I was talking about." Harry said gloomily, ruffling his already untidy hair. "She told me that I was making something out of nothing."

Ron gave a groan of dismay and threw himself sideways on the couch, burying his face into a dragonskin pillow and screaming in frustration.

"That's it, mate, let it all out. Somebody fifty miles away might not hear you, but we certainly will." said George conversationally.

"Well." said Harry, standing up again. "That's all I really came here to tell you. That, and to see if you had any more Decoy Detonators left, George? The ministry was wondering about them again. I was going to buy-"

"No." said George.

"Well, it's not really for me-"

_"No."_ George said again, more firmly. "Harry, I've told you a thousand times, you don't pay here."

Harry sighed, waved goodbye to the two Weasley brothers, and headed downstairs into the shop.

"Now, what was I saying? Oh yes." George turned his attention back to Ron. "Now, I know that Hermione still likes you."

"Yeah, right." Ron grumbled, but George silenced him with a look.

"It's obvious. She's always sneaking looks at you when she thinks you're not looking, always standing by your doorway at night to make sure that you're all right, telling Mum to make your favorite foods."

Ron's spirits lifted just the slightest bit. "Really?" he said hopefully. "How do you know all of this?"

"I have my ways." George said airily, waving a hand. "It doesn't matter _how_ I know, just that it's true. Listen up. How much do you like Hermione, Ron?"

Ron could feel his face and ears turning red. "A good amount." he mumbled.

_"How much, _Ron?"

Ron squirmed. "A lot. Really a lot."

George squinted at him. "Would you go so far as to say that you lo-"

"Stop right there!" Ron said hastily, holding up a hand. "I'm not going there."

"Does that mean that you don't?"

"No, it doesn't mean that I don't." Ron looked at the ground. "Just…give me a little time, all right? We're both only eighteen. You-Know-Who has just been defeated about two months ago, and everything is still just so…new."

"Ron," said George. "How long have you liked Hermione?"

Ron was still looking at the hardwood floor. "Since our second year at Hogwarts." he whispered softly. He didn't look at George. He was too busy remembering the moment when he had known, really known, that he liked Hermione.

It had been the year that the Chamber of Secrets had been opened. He could remember looking down at Hermione's still face after she had been Petrified, the cool, hard touch of her skin as she lay there frozen on the bed in the Hospital Wing. He remembered the rush of emotions that had run through his brain, the horror that he would never see Hermione's smile again, hear her laugh, see the happiness on her face when she had made a really big discovery. And in that moment, standing by her beside, Ron had realized that he didn't want to let her go. He had only been thirteen at the time, but the realization had all but smacked him in the face.

He had denied them of course. Shoved the feelings of longing aside, out of sight, pretended that they didn't exist.

It was when Viktor Krum entered the picture that Ron allowed just the slightest bit of jealousy to overtake him. He had passed it off as just annoyance, but when he found out Krum's true intentions, the green monster had roared its ugly head. Ron knew he couldn't deny it any longer.

And so he had waited. He had teased her, poked fun of her, taunted her, but underneath his easygoing, apparently idiotic demeanor, he was just waiting hopelessly to see if she would ever return his feelings.

Then, finally, during their sixth (and final) year at Hogwarts, Hermione had shown the first signs of reciprocating Ron's affections. It was only near the end that she had really turned towards him and depended on him.

Ron would never forgive himself for leaving Hermione during the time where they were on the run from Voldemort and his Death Eaters and the Ministry. He had been stupid, downcast, driven by fury and jealousy imbibed with the horcrux's evil power. Realizing his mistake, he had gone back as soon as he could, but it had almost been too late.

Then there was that moment in the Room of Requirement…and now…what? Just a cold shoulder.

"Ron. RON!"

Ron snapped back to the present time. "Er…sorry." he said, certain that his ears were red.

"Look," said George. "You've liked her for what…six years now? About? Five and a half? And she's liked you for about two of those years. That we know of. I honestly don't think that she's just fallen out of like with you."

"It sure seems that way." Ron muttered darkly.

"Ron, people just don't _stop _liking each other for no reason and out of the blue. There must be something going on in her life that she's worried about or concerned over, and she's so focused on that that she doesn't realize that she's completely ignoring everyone in her life, even the people that she cares about. You have to show her that no matter what's happened, you're still going to be there for her."

"But how do I do that without-" Ron stopped, embarrassed. _-without making a fool out of myself? _had been the rest of his question, but George understood.

"Small, simple gestures." he said. "Leave her some flowers in front of her door. Pull out her chair for her. Take her hand when you sit next to her. Put your arm around her when it looks like she's cold."

"It's the middle of July." Ron said. "When is she going to be cold?"

George waved an arm. "Details, details. The point is, Ron, you're going to have to show her that you're not going to give up on her. Force her to see that you're still here."

Ron looked at his hands, then back up at his brother. "I…" he said reluctantly. "I'm going…to need some help…" The last part was hard to understand, as Ron had sort of mumbled it.

George grinned wickedly and clapped his hands together. "Right." he said, a mischievous gleam in his green eyes. "Let's get started then, shall we?"


	4. Chapter 4: The First Attempt at Chivalry

**Once again, thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed and supported this story! I really do appreciate all of it. :)**

**Alas...poor Ron...at least he tries hard. :3**

**Chapter 4: The First Attempt At Chivalry**

Peering around the corner of the house, Ron spotted Hermione sitting underneath a large, towering willow tree reading a thick book. Looking down at the cluster of daisies he had clutched in his hand, Ron groaned internally. When George had explained it, it had seemed so easy. Now, when actually faced with the situation at hand, Ron felt like he was going to throw up. He swallowed hard. Trying to get his feet moving was a slight problem. He felt like someone had cast a Permanent Sticking Charm on them.

Leaning heavily against the wall, Ron closed his eyes and breathed out slowly. He could do this. Really. All he had to do was walk over and hand the flowers to Hermione. That was it. _Come on, mate!_ Ron thought to himself. _Come on, you can do this! Now, just turn around the corner and go…go over there…come on, it's just Hermione. You __like __Hermione! You…you…are scared to death of a girl!_

"What are you doing?"

Ron jumped guiltily at the sound of Harry's voice. Stuffing the flowers hastily behind his back, he attempted a smile. "No-nothing." he said, in what he hoped was a normal voice. He didn't think it was very convincing.

Neither, apparently, did Harry, who was now looking at him suspiciously. "Ron," he said. "What are you hiding behind your back?"

Ron sighed and pulled the now slightly crumpled flowers out. "I was supposed to give these to Hermione." he mumbled. "'Cept I haven't, you know, done it yet."

Harry grinned at him. "That's a great idea, Ron! Good for you! Now. Are you going to actually _give_ them to her, or just hide behind your house?"

A red tinge crept up Ron's cheeks. "Er…"

"Come on, Ron." Harry said. "You've gotta give them to her, otherwise you'll just be standing here like a statue."

"Will you come with me then?" Ron asked hopefully, but Harry just laughed.

"No, you nitwit." he said. "That'll just look dumb. You have to give them to her by yourself."

Both boys looked around at Hermione again. She was still engrossed in whatever book she was reading.

"Er…" said Ron nervously. "She looks kind of…intimidating."

"This is _Hermione _we're talking about." said Harry. _"Hermione. _We've known her for almost eight years. She's our best friend."

Ron squared his shoulders. "You-you're right." he said firmly. "All right, here I go."

He walked out from behind the house, his chest feeling unusually tight. Stopping in front of Hermione, he said "Hey, Hermione."

She glanced up at him, her cheeks slightly pink from the midday sun. "Oh, hello, Ron. I'm rather busy right now-"  
Ron thrust out the hand holding the flowers and she stopped talking. "These are for you." he said.

For a moment it seemed as if Hermione was speechless. She was looking up at Ron, who held out the flowers again, his hand shaking ever so slightly. She took them and sniffed them cautiously. "Th…thank you, Ron." she said.

"Oh!" Ron said as relief coursed through him. "Oh, well, you're-you're welcome."

He opened his mouth to say something else, but all of a sudden Hermione gave a shriek and dropped the flowers. Ron stared at her. "What's wro-" he started to say, but then leapt backwards as a hoard of about a dozen Cornish Pixies suddenly spilled from the flowers like a swarm of bees. He let out a yell and started swinging at them.

Harry, who'd heard the shouts, ran forward to help, pointing his wand at the pixies and yelling _"Stupefy!"_

He managed to Stun two of them, but the rest flew around, pulling on their arms and legs and grabbing at their clothes. Hermione gave another shriek as one of the pixies grabbed a handful of her long brown hair. Ron whacked it with his fist and it went tumbling off onto the ground, momentarily stunned. He pointed his wand at the rest and yelled _"STUPEFY!" _just as Harry and Hermione did the same thing.

The result was that the remaining pixies stopped moving and dropped to the ground like a mass of large, black-furred raindrops. Ron, Harry and Hermione all stood staring at them for a moment. Then Hermione said, rather pink in the face, "I think I will go help Mrs. Weasley with lunch now. Er…thank you for the flowers, Ronald." and hobbled off inside the house.

Ron looked at Harry. "Well, that was a mistake." he said gloomily.

Harry slung an arm around his friend's shoulders. "Cheer up, Ron. That was just one try. We'll think of something else. But, er…" he said as they headed towards the Burrow's back door. "Next time you give someone flowers, make sure to check that they're okay first."

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Ron toyed with food on his plate, pushing the limp green beans around with his fork. Beside him, Harry was trying to look like he was eating the third helping of Shepherd's Pie that Mrs. Weasley had piled in front of him, but was really feeding chunks of meat to Crookshanks, who was curled underneath the table.

On Ron's other side, eating calmly while reading a book, Hermione had pulled her bushy brown hair back into a neat ponytail with a green ribbon. It wasn't like Hermione to wear any kind of girly thing, and Ron was confused. He wondered, as he had many times before, what was going on in Hermione's mind. It used to be that he was able to tell, or at least sense a little what she was feeling. Throughout the past years, regardless of whether either of them had wanted it, a strong, emotionally thick bond had formed between the two of them. That bond most always included Harry as well, but the connection between Ron and Hermione was something even he didn't understand.

And then, suddenly, it was as if that bond had snapped, as if the rope tying them together had become frayed or disintegrated. And though Ron had gone over and mulled about every single possibility, he could not come up with a valid reason for it other than the fact that Hermione Granger simply did not like him that way anymore.

An unexpected jolt of anger shot through Ron. He was frustrated with the fact that Hermione didn't like him anymore. Frustrated and angry. Well, he wasn't going to just take this. He had liked Hermione for too long and too deeply to just give up where he was now. He was determined to show her just what she was missing…just as soon as he talked to George again.

He found his older brother lounging in the living room after dinner. He had come for dinner, as he sometimes did on weekdays, and was now sitting and reading the _Daily Prophet._

"Hey." Ron said, flopping down next to him.

George looked around. "Is-is there someone talking to me? Someone-oh my gosh, Ron! Is that you?"

He pretended to look astonished. Ron scowled.

"I'll have you know that giving flowers to Hermione didn't work." he said rather snippily and George looked down at him.

"What happened?" he asked, folding the _Prophet_ into his lap.

Ron explained the whole situation. When he was finished, George was practically rolling on the floor with hysterical laughter.

"Oh, I wish I could have seen that!" he said, wiping his eyes. "Cornish Pixies! Oh, who woulda thought?"

"If you'll stop laughing for _one second,_" Ron said testily, his arms folded across his chest. "I'd like you to help me think of something else now."

George finally stopped, but every few moments he would chuckle and shake his head, murmuring "Cornish Pixies! Hah!"

They spent the rest of the evening devising a new strategy that Ron hoped very much would work. He was more confident than he had been a few hours previous, and went upstairs to his room feeling somewhat more happy as well.

He found Harry lying on his back with his hands linked behind his shaggy, black-haired head. He was still fully dressed, and was lying on top of the covers.

"Hey." Ron said, stepping around the daybed and sitting on his own. He pulled off one of his trainers and flung it in the corner. The other shoe followed soon after. "What's up with you?"

"Nothing." said Harry, with some surprise. "Just got kinda lost in thinking, that's all."

"Well, you better get ready for bed." Ron said, now pulling off his sweaty shirt. It had been unbearably hot the entire day. "Otherwise Mum will have a cow."

Harry laughed and sat up, and began undressing. Ron had just pulled on his old flannel pajama bottoms when the door to his room was flung open.

"BLOODY HELL!" Ron bellowed. "DOESN'T ANYBODY KNOCK AROUND HERE?" He grabbed his covers and held them to his chest.

To his surprise, it was Charlie who poked his head in.

"Hey, guys." he said. "Sorry to bother you, but I was just going to tell you Ron, that tomorrow we're having a practice run through for George's wedding."

Ron goggled at him. "But they haven't even set a wedding date yet!"

"Well," said Charlie. "Now they have. It'll be the sixteenth of December."

"That's MONTHS away!" Ron protested as he struggled to pull his too-small flannel pajama top over his head. "Why are we having a run through _tomorrow?"_

Charlie rolled his eyes. "You know Mum. Always on top of things. Well, anyway, just thought you should know, and you Harry, seeing as you'll be in it somehow too."

He bade them goodnight and left. Across from Ron's bed, Pigwidgeon hooted dolefully in his cage. Ron glared at the tiny owl.

"Is _everyone _in this entire house mental?" he growled.


	5. Chapter 5: A Messy Start

**I'm sorry for such a long wait! My computer charger cord broke, and I had to order a new one...and it still hasn't come, so I've been using my tablet pc with it's attatchable keyboard, and it sucks and is tiny and has no Microsoft Word, so I've had to do everything in notepad, which is really hard. And it's kind of a short chapter too. Sorry!! o.O**

**But thank you guys so much for the lovely reviews!! I love them:)**

Ron stared moodily down at his supper dish and sighed dramatically. He pushed his plate aside and propped his chin in his hands.

"For heaven's sake, Ronald!" his mother said exasperatedly. "You're not eating again? What on earth is the matter?"

"Nothing." Ron mumbled grumpily, his arms going across his chest, a sullen expression on his face. "Nothing at all."

His latest fiasco with giving Hermione the flowers had put Ron in a complete snit, as George had light-heartedly called it. Even with his brother's help and support, Ron wasn't sure if their plan to entice Hermione into getting back with Ron would succeed.

"Well," Mrs. Weasley said briskly, scooping more potatoes onto Harry's plate, who grimmaced slightly. "You had better be on your best behavior tomorrow. We've got the rehearsal dinner coming up, and guests arrriving tomorrow morning."

"Mum," Ron groaned. "George's wedding isn't for another _six months!_ Why're we having a rehearsal dinner _tomorrow?"_

"It's never too early to be prepared." Mrs. Weasley said, now dolling a heap of gravy onto Harry's potatoes.

"Who's visiting tomorrow?" Ginny asked interestedly through a mouthful of chicken.

"Stop talking with your mouth full, dear." Mrs. Weasley finally sat down and picked up her fork. "Let's see...I'm working on the bridesmaid's dresses, so that would mean Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell. Oh, and Katie is bringing Oliver Wood along as well. She's a lovely girl, that Katie."

"Wood's coming?" Harry asked, a smile spreading across his thin face.

Even Ron was slightly cheered by the prospect of seeing the former Gryffindor Quidditch team captain again. Wood had never been Ron's captain, but Fred and George had always said (somewhat jokingly) that Wood had always had a fondness for the Weasley's. It had proved to be true, for Wood had never exactly been mean to Ron. True, he had had his fair share of teasing, but unlike Fred and George, Wood had never tried to lock Ron in a pitch black, supposedly cursed pyramid in the vast expanses of Egypt.

Mrs. Weasley was still naming off people. "And Lee Jordan, and Percy and Charlie. That way we'll have all the girls and all their escorts as well!" she looked pleased.

Ron stifled the urge to groan. "Merlin's beard, Mum. What are we going to do all day?"

"The girls and I will be working on their robes. George's going to take all the men down to the local tailor's and get them fitted for their dress robes as well. That includes you and Harry as well, Ron."

"What? No!" Ron said, aghast. "I don't want to get fit for anything! Can't Harry and I just stay here and help?"

No matter how many times she ignored him or brushed him off, Ron .was desperate to stay near Hermione. He just needed her near him so he could see that now rare smile that would flit across her sun-warmed cheeks. Besides the fact that he hated that he would have to do anything at all relating to George's wedding.

"You'll do what you're told, Ronald." his mother said, glaring at him, but Ron glared right back. "Mum, we're both already of age! I'm already eighteen, so I'm past being of age! Come on!"

Mrs. Weasley jabbed a finger in Ron's direction. "While you are living in this house, Ronald Weasley, you will follow my rules."

Ron thought he heard Hermione muffle a laugh, and he sighed. "I'm going to bed." he said shortly, poking his wand at his dish and sending it soaring with a clatter into the sink. He pushed his chair back and stomped all the way up to his cluttered attic room, ignoring his mother's huffs of protest.

_This is getting kind of repetative,_ Ron thought as he stared up at the poster on his ceiling, lying on his back on the bed for what seemed like the hundredth time. _But there's nothing else to do, really._ He absentmindedly traced a scribbled pattern on his orange bedspread with a finger, letting his eyelids slowly drift shut. The rest of the world ticked out as Ron fell into what wasn't exactly sleep, but something rather like it. He hung in the balance of what was between awake and asleep, and vaguely he could hear people talking.

"It's not going to work." that voice sounded like his sister, Ginny. Or maybe not. Ron was falling deeper into sleep and could hardly tell anymore.

"You don't know that." the second voice was abrupt. It was the tone that pricked at Ron's attention. A myriad of emotions lay beneath the forced calm. He liked Hermione enough to recognize that she wasn't always as held together as she tried to appear to be.

"You're hurting him." the first voice said quietly, almost too quietly for Ron to hear. "It's killing him inside, can't you see that? He's going crazy pining for you. You're causing him pain."

"I'm not!" the second voice said firmly, but with an edge of desperation. "I'm not. He's fine. We'll both be fine."

The first voice sounded small and soft when it responded. "Will you, Hermione? Will you be fine?"

Ron didn't hear her answer, for at that moment the sleep he had been trying to elude caught up with him and seeped into him, and he fell into a deep, pleasant slumber.

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In the morning, Ron remembered nothing of the muffled conversation he had heard the night before. As he trudged along behind Harry into Madam Malkin's, he had a nagging feeling that he was forgetting something. Something very important.

"Ah, the Weasley party!" Madam Malkin greeted them all enthusastically. Since she had reopened her wizarding robe shop, her buisness had been booming. "Yes, right this way! Now, who's first? Mr. Johnson?"

The tall black boy stepped forward, his dreadlocks swinging, a wide grin on his face. "Might as well. Now, Georgie, don't get too carried away with your ideas, all right?"

George flashed a wicked smile. "Of course not. Now, where are the pink plaid robes?"

Ron asked "Really, what are we wearing, George?"

His older brother sighed melodramatically. "So quick to be serious. Relax, Ronny, we're all wearing shades of green. Yours happens to be a shockingly lovely shade of chartreuse."

Harry hastily turned his laugh into a hacking cough. Ron felt his ears grow hot.

The rest of the day was spent being poked and prodded by Madam Malkin and her never ending supply of needles and pins. Ron staggered out of the shop feeling as if his arm had undergone a strange feeling of being pinched nonstop.

They Apparated back to the house, which they found in a state of disarray. Mrs. Weasley was running rampant in the tiny living room, yards and yards of a soft, lavender colored fabric draped over every surface. In the center of all of this mess stood Hermione, perched on a table.

Ron's gaze locked on her figure, turned slightly away from him. Robes of pale purple fell in swoops over her small frame, and her usually bushy hair was tumbling down her back in thick, golden-brown ringlets.

Ron couldn't seem to tear his eyes from her. It was rare that Hermione did anything to improve her appearance, but that was exactly one of the reasons why he liked her so much. She was beautiful in her own way, her passion for learning and for life giving her a radiance that was unrivaled.

Hermione blinked her long lashes at Ron, and he shrank back slightly at the intensity in her face. Then he remembered George's words, not to be intimidated by Hermione

...that was easier said than done, Ron thought miserably. Hermione could be incredibly stubborn when she wanted to be. He cleared his throat noisily, and noticed that the room was filled with girls and one very sleepy and bored looking male.

The sound brought Mrs. Weasley from her musings. "Ah, you're back." she said. "Good. What do you think of the colors, George?"

"They're lovely, mother." George swept across the room and took his Verity's hands in his, leaning down to kiss her. "Perfect."

Verity smiled. "We thought that lavender would go best with the skin tones and red hair of everyone."

Harry stepped forward. "Hey, Oliver."

Wood unfolded himself from the chair where he was lounging and stretched, yawning widely. "Hey there, Harry. Sorry I wasn't here sooner. Katie-girl was runnin' late with gettin' ready."

"I was not." Katie Bell called from across the room, where she was pinning the sleeve of Angelina Johnson's robes. "Oliver just can't seem to get dressed in a normal amount of time."

Ron wondered if they were living together, and felt his face grow red.

Wood caught his confused expression and smiled. "We're not together." he said easily. "But Katie spends a lot of time at me flat. We're good friends. She helps me to keep meself from starvin."

"Only because Oliver can't seem to feed himself." Katie muttered, and there was a tittering of laughter.

The room slowly dispersed as everyone filed outside for a late lunch prepared by Mrs Weasley. Ron lingered, surprised and happy when he was left with only Hermione as she gathered her things together.

He cleared his throat again, nervously. "You, er..." he said, stumbling over the words. "You look...you look lovely."

Hermione's back was to him. "Thank you." she said without turning around.

Ron shifted from foot to foot, trying to think of something to say. The tense silence stretched between them, almost tangible enough to touch.

As Hermione picked up her book, the last of her things, and turned to leave, Ron blurted out "Wait!"

She stopped in the doorway, but didn't look back. "Yes, Ron."

He heard the pleading in his voice as he spoke. "Please talk to me." he said quietly, touching her shoulder.

Hermione's shoulders were hunched. "I can't now." she said, and Ron flinched at the brusque tone of her voice. His hand dropped away and Hermione ran from the room.


	6. Chapter 6: The Questionable Visitor

**Yayyyy I'm back! -grins sheepishly-**

**I FINALLY fixed my computer, so I'll be updating regularly now:)  
And I LOVE the reviews. Thank you so much!!  
**

**Chapter 6: The Questionable Visitor**

"No. Absolutely not."

George put his hands on his hips. "Now, Ronny, we agreed to this-"

"No, _you _agreed to this." Ron glared at his brother. "I said nothing involving this."

A theatrical sigh escaped George's lips as he took on a wounded expression. "Don't you trust me, Ronald?"

Ron sputtered. "Not at all."

"Ah, oh well." George waved a dismissive hand. "What matters now is getting you to do this."

_"No."_ Ron said vehemently. "No way."

George turned a pleading gaze in Harry's direction. "Harry, old chap, don't you think this is a good idea?"

Harry grinned, looking up from the book he was reading; _Quidditch Through the Ages._ "I think you should do it, Ron."

Ron gaped at him as George let out a triumphant noise. "Harry!"

He looked innocently up. "What?"

"You're supposed to be on my side!"

"Ah, the rewards of bribery!" George said. "Let's get on with the plan, shall we?"

Ron struggled to find an excuse. "You…you're not…you can't…GEORGE!"

It had been almost a week since Hermione had brushed Ron off that day of the wedding preparations, and since hearing the coldness straight from her voice, Ron had just about given up all hope when George came swooping back with a plan. An idiotic, over the top, extravagant plan that Ron was _not _going to go along with.

"Now," George said, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. He looked as gleeful as when he and Fred had flown out of Hogwarts on their broomsticks. "The first thing to do is find out where Hermione will be tomorrow morning at six o'clock."

"Probably sleeping like _normal people do." _Ron said loudly.

Both Harry and George ignored him; Harry had set his book down and was now listening to every word.

"Now," George pulled a sheet of parchment and a quill from the dragonskin bag he had at his feet and began writing.

"Step one…"

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Ron peered around the corner of Hermione's room and swallowed hard. The books clutched in his hand were heavy and thick, but that was nothing compared to the heaviness in Ron's heart. This had to work. It _had _to.

The room was empty. Ron glanced around the hallway quickly once more, then slipped inside. He set the books hastily down on Hermione's desk along with a small piece of parchment with "To Miss Hermione Granger" scrawled in a loopy script on it.

He hurried out of the room as fast as he had come, for fear that the girl in question might decide to Apparate unexpectedly into her room. His mind working at what could have been the consequences of Hermione Granger finding him in her room, Ron made his way back downstairs and into the living room, where George and Harry were talking animatedly about a new product George had developed for Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.

"-it's really quite something. I mean, anything that can make your fingers turn into giant sausages has gotta be pretty amazing, but I'm quite pleased with the way this one turned out."

Harry roared with laughter. "I'm going to have to get some of those. Use them on…well, hmm? Now who would I use them on?"

"That little Malfoy git?" George asked as Ron collapsed on the couch beside him, but Harry shook his head, looking thoughtful.

"Malfoy and I…" he said slowly. "We have an…understanding."

"I still say he's a slimy toad." Ron said, and George slung an arm around his shoulders, rumpling his hair with his fist. "OUCH, GEORGE!"

"Did you put them in her room?" Harry asked, and Ron nodded through George's headlock.

"On her desk, where she'll be bound to notice them." He said. "Now, where was the next spot again?"

"Well, once she sees the books and reads the note, the she'll know that it says she has to go to the wood shed out back." George said, finally relenting and letting go of Ron's head. "And out there are some fancy new quills that you said she'd like-"

"Courtesy of Ginny." Harry supplied, and George nodded and held up his hand, ticking off his fingers as he went.

"-then, after the quills, we've got the Honeyduke's chocolate, and then the fancy collar for Crookshanks, then the butterbeer in the kitchen, and the planner in the living room, and then we've finally got the lead out into the garden with the scented candles-"

"-where Ron will be waiting on Friday night with a romantic dinner." Harry finished, grinning. "We've got it all worked out that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are going to go out for dinner that night, thanks to Ginny's brilliance, and Bill and Fleur are going to cook dinner, because really, Fleur is a phenomenal cook."

"And there'll be candles and moonlight and flowers and all sorts of natty girly things…" George closed his eyes and pretended to be dancing. "And soft, flippy music and a table set for two…"

Ron was blushing furiously. "All right, all right, I get it. It's all set."

George wagged a finger in his brother's face. "And who said this plan would work?"

"It hasn't worked _yet." _Ron grumbled, propping his feet up on the table.

"What hasn't worked yet?" Ginny asked as she walked into the room, followed by Hermione.

Ron immediately dropped his feet and sat up, his face turning a bright shade of red. "Uh…" he said, casting a wild look at Harry and George.

"My new invention." George said smoothly. "I still haven't figured out how well it works."

"You have a new invention?" Hermione asked interestedly, and the four other people in the room stared at her.

"What?" she said irritably.

"Wow, Hermione." George said. "This is like, the first time in two months that you've had your nose out of a book."

She blushed. "I've noticed things, thank you. Just because I'm reading doesn't mean that I'm not paying attention."

Ron opened his mouth to say something, but at that moment Bill came ambling through the doorway.

"Hey," he said, an odd expression on his long-scarred face. "Er…there's going to be a visitor coming any minute now through the Floo network in here, so don't be surprised, okay?"

"A visitor?" asked Harry as the Weasleys and Hermione looked around at each other in confusion. "Who is it?"

Bill shifted from one foot to the other. "Ah…well, I think you'd better find out for yourself."

There was a rushing sound and everyone turned to the fireplace. The flames had turned a vivid emerald color and were twisting and swirling, and then, all of a sudden, there was a cloud of smoke and someone was forming in the fire. A tall, thin figure stepped out of the fireplace, brushing soot off of his impeccably cleaned robes.

Ron felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. He stared at the person in front of him, managing to say only a single name.

_"Malfoy?!"_


End file.
